The next two weeks flew by for Harry in a haze of dirty nappies, appointments with barristers, burp cloths, appointments with Gringotts officials, hours of high-pitched shrieking, appointments with court officials, sleep broken every 45 minutes to an hour, and the ever-present threat of being pounced upon by reporters if he so much as peered out his window.

Well, metaphorically speaking on that last, as his house was Unplottable and under the Fidelius with himself as the Secret Keeper. Not that many of his adoring (read: rabid) fans would think to look for him in a Muggle neighborhood, anyway.

Still, he only thought he'd been exhausted by his schedule before.

As Ciaran began whimpering from within the confines of his basket, where Harry had laid him to fill out yet another form the Ministry needed for some reason or other, Harry fought the urge to run down the street screaming, taking a series of deep breaths before picking up the little bundle of squirming tears and shit-er, joy. Bundle of joy, that's it.

"Please, Ciaran. I'm gonna have a breakdown, and then who's going to feed you? Ever think about that?" the former Gryffindor pleaded as the infant began working himself up to a full-lung scream.

Closing his eyes in defeat, he did his best to block out the incessant wailing and bounced the irate baby gently, walking in circles. "Your Daddy's genes are evil," the dark haired young man told the baby tiredly, looking down into the furious, red face right before the tiny boy spit up all over the front of his shirt. "Definitely evil."

---

Having resigned himself to the fact that he wasn't going to last long without the proper supplies, not to mention help besides Winky, Harry made his way to Diagon Alley that evening determined to stock up on baby supplies and hopefully some kind of parenting books that would give him an idea of what he should be doing. Surely, babies didn't just scream for hours on end for no reason, right?

Besides, at some point, he was going to need the chair and shelves he'd transfigured into a small crib and changing table for Ciaran. Not to mention, he wasn't sure how long the transfigurations would last, and he didn't even want to think about what might happen if the shelves he was using for a crib suddenly resumed their true form while Ciaran was sleeping there. Certainly, it wouldn't be very pretty, or healthy.

Thankfully, since Hogwarts wasn't due to reopen for quite some time yet, it wasn't as crowded as it usually would be, even in the summer. Though, it probably still would've been a good idea to come up with some kind of disguise, Harry admitted, as he ignored a group of witches whispering, giggling and pointing at him. You'd think they'd find something else to gossip about by now.

Of course, once someone noticed the baby he had currently tucked close to his chest, covered by his cloak, things were bound to get really crazy. Harry sincerely hoped that he could get his shopping done and be home before that happened, though. But, given his luck, he wasn't counting on it.

"Harry!"

The voice startled him, and it was all he could do to bite back the curse on the tip of his tongue as he recognized Hermione an instant before she flung herself at him. Barely managing to turn to spare Ciaran the impact, Harry sputtered as a mouth full of Hermione's hair threatened to choke him. "Can't...breathe!" he gasped out.

"Oh, sorry!" the book-worm apologized, pulling back from her impromptu pounce and grinning at him. "I know it's only been a few weeks, but I've missed you," she said, looking him over from head to toe, as if he might have changed in the last fortnight.

"I've missed you, too," Harry replied, grinning himself. "It's been insane meeting with all the solicitors and court officials. And you wouldn't believe the ridiculous amount of paperwork I've had to fill out. You'd think that I was the one on trial," he told her, shaking his head.

"I can tell. You look exhausted, Harry," Hermione told him, frowning. "Please tell me you're not losing sleep and forgetting to eat over this."

"I'm not, I promise," he assured her. Nope. Snape's trial has nothing to do with the lost meals and sleep. That's totally Ciaran's fault.

"Good. You're no good to Professor Snape if you keel over from lack of rest and proper nutrition," the former lioness chided.

Harry grinned at her. "Yes, Mum," he joked. His smile froze before becoming devious. "Say, Hermione, what do you know about babies?"